


someone who cares

by mishkinat



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Autistic Sherlock, Chaptered, Childhood, Drug Use, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Kid Fic, Kid Sherlock, Kid!Lock, Kidlock, Teen Sherlock, Teenagers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-04
Updated: 2017-03-11
Packaged: 2018-09-14 20:24:48
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 7,360
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9201029
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mishkinat/pseuds/mishkinat
Summary: Mycroft will always look out for his little brother, no matter what. From childhood and throughout his teens, Sherlock always had his brother to rely on.





	1. Still My Brother

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! Thank you for reading :)
> 
> This will grow, a different chapter for a different year of Sherlock's life. It will explore Sherlock's relationship with Mycroft largely (but eventually Victor and John)

Sherlock as a baby was very difficult for his parents to handle. Despite this, Mycroft had always stood up for him and loved him. He boasted at school to the other children about how amazing his baby brother was, and how he did not disturb a good night's sleep, and how he would grow up to be the best doctor in the world. Their parents, however, were concerned with the baby. His distance and non-responsive behaviour was baffling enough for many paediatricians, who had attempted to diagnose him with many things. None of these diagnoses had stuck, and over time Mycroft realised that it was not because of Sherlock, but rather his parent's inability to just accept the fact that Sherlock was different. By the tenth doctor's visit, Mycroft had had enough.

"I can't believe you!" He screamed at the top of his voice, blocking the entrance to the front door. Emotions were something he had tried to suppress in order to tackle things head-on and critically. Emotion was dangerous. However, right at that moment it seemed like this was a vital exception, simply to make his parents listen to him for once. Just for Sherlock, he reminded himself. As the words shrieked from his lips, his parents were visibly shaken, completely taken back by their oldest son's outburst. "He is just a baby- he is your son and my brother! I would appreciate it if you stopped treating him like some error." He balled his fists and his face was growing redder and redder by the second. "You aren't happy with anything the doctors tell you, so what is the point? So what if he has autism? No matter what they tell you, you don't listen anyway! You want an excuse to get rid of him!" Mycroft's anger was frightening, never before had his parents seen such anger in their child. He slammed a fist against the door and stomped his feet, bounding up the stairs with his heart racing and teeth clenched. Everything he saw was red and anything he could smack or break he would. He would not listen to his parents so long as they would not listen to Sherlock's doctors or Mycroft himself, who seemingly understood more about his brother than his parents did. As he slammed his bedroom door shut, he collapsed on his bed with anger still coursing through his veins. 

As the front door locked shut again, he could still hear his mother sobbing. Mycroft grinned. He had won. He was sorry to have upset her, but it was vital in order to point out her own stubbornness, whether she was aware of it or not. He heard footsteps head into the nursery and moments later a light knock at his door.

"Mycroft, son..." It was Daddy.

In response, Mycroft threw a book at the door.

Over the night, Mycroft ignored any further attempt by his parents to communicate with him. He needed to get his point across. He even skipped dinner to scare his parents. Mycroft had sat at his desk, staring into his school books which he had already read twice-over trying to come up with a plan to get his parents to just  _understand_. Mycroft sighed deeply. At seven years old, he had already come to the realisation that he understood things quicker and better than his peers and even most adults he came into contact with. At school, he quite often became stressed and had to leave the room. Not because he didn't understand the work, because he did, and not because he didn't have friends, because he especially didn't understand that, but because he felt trapped in his mind and surrounded by stupidity. He did not want to get everybody to hate him, and so he did not voice this out loud, but it was true nonetheless. Yet, when he thought of his brother, hope welled up in his heart. Finally, somebody like  _him_. He could tell, Sherlock was going to be like him. Why would his parents want to make him feel even more alone?

When he heard the light in his parent's room switch off at last, Mycroft crept out of bed and into the nursery. There, in his cot Sherlock lay, months old staring into the ceiling without a care in the world. As Mycroft approached, Sherlock's arm stretched up towards him. Mycroft's heart beat faster, lighter.

"Hello, you." Mycroft grinned, ear to ear. He took the baby's tiny hand gently and tapped his finger into his palm. Mycroft gingerly placed a small toy dog that had once belonged to him beside the baby.

Sherlock smiled.  _He smiled._ Mycroft beamed. He had to cover his mouth to stop him from shouting out in pure happiness. Mycroft glanced at the baby monitor, completely aware that what he was about to say would be heard by their parents.

"You are my brother, Sherlock. My little brother." He whispered. Tears welled up in his eyes. After months, Sherlock was listening. "Mummy and Daddy are very confused right now, but that's okay. Adults can be stupid sometimes, and it is sad to realise that. But don't you worry because you are my brother, no matter what. Nobody can take that away from us." He put his face slightly closer to Sherlock's. "No matter what. I'll be there by your side. No matter what the doctors say. I know you are listening to me. You're still my brother." Mycroft gently brought his finger down Sherlock's cheek. Sherlock's big blue eyes began to close, and after a few coos from the baby he fell asleep. Mycroft made a vow to protect his brother and he loved him dearly.


	2. First Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock's first day of school...things don't go as expected.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading 
> 
> Comments are appreciated ;)  
> Hope you enjoy

Sherlock's first day of nursery had gone largely as expected. He had arrived, clinging to Mycroft and speaking to nobody. Everything the teacher had told him to do, he had refused. All the other children in the class had talked too loudly, made horrible noises that made his ears burn, and the bright colours that were plastered on the walls made him want to shut his eyes. The whole experience made him feel dizzy. By the end of the day, he was so shocked with it all that he refused to speak to anybody at home. That was his first and last day at nursery.

However, much had changed in the time that had separated his entrance into reception from nursery. Sherlock, somewhere along the line, had learned to stand on his own two feet. He had come out of his shell in an extraordinary way, much to the pain of the Holmes' parents. Whilst Sherlock would often fly off the handle at the slightest thing, Mycroft would stand back and watch very amused, and quite proud at the progress Sherlock had made. He had made himself lots of little projects, studying bugs and birds in the garden and making lists of words that 'sounded right'. If Mycroft asked what that meant, Sherlock would shake his head 'you wouldn't understand.'

"Are you looking forward to your first day of school?" Mycroft asked as he tied Sherlock's shoes for him.

"Yes." Sherlock grinned a very mischievous grin.

"Well, if they are half as stupid as you, you will fit in quite fine." Mycroft teased, sticking his tongue out to let him know he was kidding.

"Well I don't care what people think of me." Sherlock crossed his arms over his chest.

Mycroft laughed loudly. "Clearly!" He shook his head at the sight of Sherlock's unkempt hair, which he refused to let anyone touch, even himself. His shirt was half tucked in and he had only let Mycroft tie his shoelaces because he didn't want to hurt his knees when he fell over.

Sherlock pinched Mycroft in reply and darted out the door, to see how his birdhouse was doing.

Mycroft sighed deeply. 

"Are you sure this is a good idea?" Mycroft turned to his parents, who were now rummaging through drawers and cabinets to try and find the camera for those imperative 'first day photos' which made Mycroft's patience wear thin even quicker than normal.

"What do you mean, Mike?" His mother smiled at him, unaware of any problems.

"You know perfectly fine what I mean. Remember his first day of nursery?"

"Oh, Mycroft. Stop worrying so much about your brother it will not do you any good. You said yourself that you were proud of how much he had come out of his shell. Of course we are worried...but we have to try." His father replied.

Mycroft sighed and headed into the car, calling Sherlock after him.

 

When Sherlock arrived at school, he ditched his parents immediately, waved goodbye to Mycroft and darted straight towards his classroom. Mycroft almost collapsed in surprise and Sherlock's newfound eagerness and decided that his parents were right. As the bell rang, Sherlock hung up his coat and bag and changed his shoes before darting in and being the first child sitting perfectly on the floor, smiling like an angel at the teacher.

That would be the last time any teacher saw Sherlock as an angel.

As soon as the other children came in screeching and howling, some excited and some crying, Sherlock knew that he had made a terrible decision to think that this would play out perfectly. However, he did realise that this would be an excellent opportunity to study how people his age worked and thought. Although he was terribly disappointed that everybody here, including the teacher, were far mentally inferior than he was he knew that he wanted to stick this one out for entertainment and study.

As they were told to introduce themselves, Sherlock found himself almost pitying these children. Some cried as they spoke, some couldn't speak and some picked their nose. Sherlock decided that children his age were boring. When Sherlock was called to introduce himself he stood up, crossed one arm across his chest and held the other arm loose, like a sarcastic teenager already. He rolled his eyes at the teacher's far-fetched excitement. "My name is Sherlock Holmes." He refused to make eye contact with anybody.

"That's a funny name." One child giggled, setting off the rest of the children laughing.

Sherlock took a deep breath, "Yes, well. I can tell that I will be friends with none of you." He sat down quickly and flicked his hair, feeling triumphant whilst everybody else felt confused. 

 

When they sat down at tables, all of the children stared at him. 

"Yes?" He asked, staring back at them. 

"You're very rude." One little girl accused.

Sherlock shrugged. "Do you like pirates?"

The girl looked disgusted, "No!"

"Then you are very boring." He got back to cutting out shapes. The table of five were immediately conflicted at Sherlock's quick wit. Half of them were angry and felt insulted but the other half were startled, intrigued and impressed. Sherlock, of course, noticed this and smiled to himself. He was going to play a year-long game with these people, and he was going to win by himself. 

"I like pirates, Sherlock." Another little girl smiled.

"Really? Well, you can be my best friend." He lied.

This set off a rivalry within the pro-Sherlock half of the table. Sherlock giggled to himself.

 

At break time, the children watched Sherlock cautiously, almost frightened by him.  He really didn't mind. He set off to find Mycroft.

"Mycroft, you were right." Sherlock's face was pale and his eyes were sad. Mycroft's heart beat faster.

"Oh no. Do you want to go home? Do you need to phone..."

Sherlock cut him off laughing, "No, no. These children. They are so stupid. I don't know whether I am very bored or very entertained by them."

Mycroft smiled back, "Oh, Sherlock. If you're anything like me for the first month you will be entertained and for the rest of your life you will be bored by them."

Sherlock sighed deeply. "At least I have my brother."

"Yes, you do."

 

Back in class, Sherlock was almost falling asleep. His over-excited teacher would not shut up. They were starting the alphabet! How exciting! Whilst she was telling the children how exciting and important learning the alphabet was, Sherlock had already written it out on his book three times. 

As the children started writing the letter 'a', Sherlock sighed over-dramatically and slammed his pencil down. 

"Boring!" He shouted. The teacher's face went red as the rest of the class giggled. 

"Sherlock, this is a very important topic..." She tried to calmly explain. 

"Yep." He placed his book into her hands and ran into the playroom.

 

By lunch, the whole class was divided. Sherlock sat on his own, but was later joined by the little girl he had deemed his 'best friend' and a group of other children that had been summoned by the girl. He moved over to the next table.

She followed, he was baffled. This was an interesting game. He moved back, and she followed. She giggled.

"You're a quiet best friend."

"You are a liar."

"What?"

"You said you liked pirates. What's Long John Silver's parrot called?"

She shook her head and laughed.

Sherlock walked away. Out in the playground he played by himself. He had a long branch as a sword and the trees were his greatest enemy. He grunted and rolled around, dashing in and out of the trees as he swiped them with his sword. It was a fun game, and after a few minutes he completely forgot about school and the idiot children. 

"Sherlock!" A voice shouted. He turned around. The little liar was crying and had her arms wrapped around a boy, around four years older than she was. Her brother. He rolled his eyes. 

"You little brat, I've heard a lot about you. You embarrassed my little sister on her first day." His fat face was going red.

"Really?" Sherlock walked over and stared right up at him, and the boy was a lot taller than him. A circle of children began to gather around the two of them. Where was Mycroft?

"We all should have been warned about you." The boy sneered.

Sherlock looked around, Mycroft wasn't there. "Oh, really? Why's that?" He said passively.

"Your big brother is a freak as well." 

Sherlock froze. Mycroft? He laughed out loud and shook his head. He did not expect to feel so angry. Sherlock lunged forward and leapt on the boy, knocking him to the ground and punched him square in the face. The group of older children burst out laughing, not at Sherlock, no. At the older boy who had just been knocked to the ground by a little kid on his first day. Sherlock was proud of himself, even as he was dragged away by two teachers.

They couldn't do much. It was the first day of school and they hadn't known Sherlock long, plus Mycroft was the best pupil in school. The adults were completely baffled as to what to do with Sherlock. He grinned. Eventually, they shook their heads, gave him a stern talking-to and sent him back to class.

As Sherlock strolled back into his classroom the children stared at him. This was interesting, Sherlock thought. The older children in school now respected him, but not children his own age. The teacher looked scared of him. He wasn't sure how he felt about that. He sat back in his chair and did nothing for the rest of the day. He stared passively at the wall, ignoring any attempts by children and the teacher to talk to him. When the bell rang for the end of the day, he moved slowly with his mind far away.

 

"Sherlock punched a boy today." Mycroft told his parents immediately as he got into the car, dragging Sherlock by the wrist.

"You did what?" His mother turned around, eyes blazing.

"I punched a boy today, four years older than me."

Mycroft gestured his confusion with his hands.

"Why on earth did you do that?" His father almost laughed.

Sherlock looked at Mycroft and then shrugged. "He looked at me funny."

"We can't have you at school if you're going to act like a thug." His father yelled. Sherlock did not cry.

"I know. I won't do it again." 

 

Later that night, as Mycroft came into Sherlock's room to say goodnight, he found his brother sitting up.

"Mycroft, do you care what people think of you?"

"Not at all."

"That boy called you a freak. That's why I punched him." Sherlock looked directly into Mycroft's eyes.

"Oh, Sherlock." Mycroft sat down beside him. "Believe me, I'm touched. But don't fight my battles for me, it will do you no good." 

"I used to think that I don't care what people think about me. Now I am not so sure." Sherlock's eyes widened.

Mycroft was unsure what to say, and thought for a moment. "Dear brother, caring will not make life any easier for you. Goodnight."

"Goodnight." Sherlock smiled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A lot of these kind of fics show Sherlock being shy and scared of children. I quite like the idea of Sherlock being overconfident and bemused by them.


	3. A Boy Called John

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock met a boy today.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> today I am going to write two small chapters!

"I met a boy today." Sherlock, now nine, whispered to Mycroft as they sat together on the couch, Sherlock's large red dog stretched out between them.

Mycroft turned to face him, "A new boy in your class?" 

"No. He is in your school. Older than me, younger than you." Sherlock snuggled into Redbeard's side.

"How on earth did you meet him?"

"It was very brief. I was sitting, where I usually sit at the furthest end of the playground. Right by the fence. He looked right at me but I ignored him. Then he yelled 'help!' and I shot up. He was being chased by two other boys! It was quite sad, Mycroft, he was covered in bruises. He wasn't even crying. I threw some stones at the boys over the fence and started howling to scare them off and it worked. The other boy stayed for ten minutes, just sitting there. Then he said 'thanks' and headed off the other way."

"That was kind of you, I suppose."

"I heard the other boys call him 'John'. Do you know him?" Sherlock looked right into Mycroft's eyes, so he would be aware if he were lying.

"I'm afraid there are many Johns in the school. Why?" Mycroft grew worried. The last time Sherlock took an interest in a person it did not end well at all.  A new boy arrived, sharing Sherlock's keen interest in all things pirates. They hit it off but it did not last long at all. The rest of the class teased his new friend until he too turned against Sherlock. 

"I think I'd quite like to be his friend." 

"Sherlock..." Mycroft took a warning tone.

"I know...I know." Sherlock decided to end the conversation. Sherlock placed his face in his hands whilst he looked into Redbeard's round eyes and saw his only friend.

He was so lonely. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading :)  
> comments are greatly appreciated - is there any prompt you would like me to include in here?


	4. not today

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock didn't speak today

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks again for reading :)

Sherlock did not want to talk today.

This morning, Mycroft had notived a particularly blank expression in Sherlock's eyes, but his face was full of concentration.

"How is high school going, dear?" Sherlock's mother asked, fixing his tie. He did not reply.

"Is he ill?" Mycroft asked, uselessly. Everybody was greatly confused by Sherlock's trance.

It wasn't that he was sad, Mycroft knew what that looked like, and  it broke his heart.

This was different. He was concentrating, thinking hard about something that nobody else knew. 

"Have you made any friends?" His father attempted some form of communication and it still remained one-sided. For the rest of the morning, Sherlock seemed to move around on autopilot, not eating a thing but drinking one glass of milk. As he got into the car there was still no word.

"Are you sure you want to go to school today, dear?" His mother asked. Sherlock stared out the window. Mycroft wasn't sure how to feel, he would usually be angry at Sherlock being this insolent but something about the way his little brother looked told him that this was serious. 

 

At school, he sat silently. His teachers were baffled by the lack of outbursts and snarky comments coming from the back of the room. Many people asked if he was ill, but he would sit and look angry if anybody dared touch him.

Mycroft, by lunchtime, was exasperated by his brother's behaviour. "For Christ's sake, Sherlock. What is the matter?"

Sherlock bit his lip until it drew blood. Mycroft hurried alongside him, as the boy was pacing rather quickly around the field.

"Sherlock, what's wrong?" Mycroft grabbed Sherlock's shoulder. "Watch out! You'll trip over your laces."

All of a sudden Sherlock froze. His eyes lit up. He gave a loud clap and a sigh of satisfaction. Mycroft was stunned.

Sherlock grabbed his brother by the shoulders, "Shoes! The shoes, Mycroft! Exactly! It just doesn't make any sense at all."

"What on earth are you talking about, Sherlock?"

"Carl! Carl Powers. It's been annoying me for days."

Mycroft took a deep sigh and knelt down to Sherlock's level. "Sherlock..."

"Really, Mycroft? Not you, too." Sherlock looked insulted. "Well...I'll show you! I'll go to the police, they have to listen to me."

"No, Sherlock. Leave it."

Sherlock violently pulled his arm from Mycroft's grip and marched off. Mycroft could only sigh and worry as the shape of his brother disappeared from the school grounds. Sherlock was putting himself in more and more dangerous situations and it frightened him.

"Come back, little brother." Mycroft sighed to himself. 


	5. I'm Leaving, Dear Brother

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mycroft is going to university and Sherlock is unsure how to feel

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry it is short again

The whole journey to Mycroft's new flat had been a messy blur. Sherlock stared out the window the whole time, not thinking about anything in particular, but definitely not thinking about how when he passed this road on the return home, he would be alone.

Completely alone.

When he struggled, stone-faced and silent, carrying some of Mycroft's boxes into the flat and dumping them in his room, he could not look at anyone's face and he prayed that nobody was looking at him. When the last box had been placed in the room, and their parents had hugged goodbye and cried softly into Mycroft's cheek, Sherlock suddenly found himself aware of the facts. And the facts were that now, he was all alone. Alone, alone, alone. He took a deep breath.

"Mycroft-" Sherlock wiped a tear that was dripping down his face. He hadn't been aware he was crying.

"It's okay, little brother." Mycroft tried to smile- to laugh- just to show Sherlock that it was going to be  _okay_.

Sherlock shook his head and clamped his hands on his face. "No. It's not, and you know it is not."

"You can write to me, Sherlock." Mycroft crouched down to his level, "I will be sad if you don't."

"I know. I promise I will." Sherlock sounded younger.

"Good." Mycroft smiled. "And you know that I will come and visit you. Often."

"Thank you, Mycroft." Sherlock smiled.

 

When Sherlock returned home, he sat in his room staring at the wall. His parents knew better than to disturb him, as he really needed the time to organise his thoughts.

 _What's wrong with me?_ He asked himself.  _Why am I alone?_

After picking up a pen and paper and he realised that he could not write a letter, not now, anyway.

What he needed to do was prepare for a life without his brother. He wanted to be determined, to be strong. He would go into school and be fine. It would be new, it would be scary but he would be fine. He would show those kids at school that he was worth something, just anything.

He didn't want to stay alone.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you for reading :)
> 
> (I am back at school now so will not be able to update as much, but will still update!)


	6. that boy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay okay this is tiny but im busy atm sorry

Sherlock had seen that boy again.

Smaller than the rest of his peers, and often left to his own devices. The boy was two years older than himself. Sherlock was fascinated. He was too shy to go up to the boy and talk to him but occasionally when their eyes would meet in the corridor, there would be an inkling or recognition, or even embarrassment, of the incident last year at the school date.

Sherlock couldn't shake the boy from his thoughts, the way his eyes looked so  _sad_ all the time. The boy had more friends than himself, but was teased mercilessly by most of the year group. Sherlock felt a strange sense of protection for the boy, but he did not know what to do about it.

He sat at the foot of his bed, staring. What was he to do? Why did he care so much?

He would have to ask Mycroft.


	7. Help

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock reaches out to Mycroft

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading :)

**Sent: 03:27**

**Dear Mycroft,**

What do I do? I'm completely stuck. I have been lying in my bed for seven hours and fourteen minutes trying to work out this problem. I just can't. 

So I have finally reached the end of my tether and have come to you for help. There is a boy, I've mentioned him to you before, his name is John and I am sure he is in trouble. I haven't spoken to him much since that time at the school gate, but every so often I will pass him at school and give him a  _look_. But he just looks sad, Mycroft. All the time. I don't know what to do about it, I don't want him to be sad.

He's not a total freak, or anything like that. He plays rugby, I saw him in PE and he was smiling then, and he has friends there. Yet, other times there are other kids, quite a few, who are just so mean to him. I don't understand it at all. I don't understand people at all. They hurt him sometimes too. 

But why do I want him to be happy so much? 

Why can't I stop thinking about him?

Help me, Mycroft. And don't make me beg you.

-Sherlock

 

 

He had written that e-mail four hours earlier, but had strong reservations about actually pressing send. But he needed help, and it was hard for him to admit that. School was not the same for him now. He just felt worried instead of smart. Sherlock sighed and closed down the laptop lid.

There would be no sleep for him tonight.

 

**Sent: 06:41**

**Sherlock:**

I cannot help you there, I am afraid.

Don't get too close.

Mycroft.

 

Sherlock bit his lip hard and grabbed his hair in frustration. He'd have to work this one out alone.


	8. Talk

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock finally talks

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading!

Sherlock was having a bad day. Everything was just  _too much_. In class the lights were too bright, or people's laughter was just a little  _too_ piercing, or the colours were to sickening, taunting him from the walls. He placed his head in his hands and sighed deeply. His teacher, who had known Sherlock for over a year now, and had dealt with his quips, sarcasm and enthusiastic debates and also his polar opposite periods of silence and detachment, had never seen this pained and defeated looks. He knelt down beside the boy,

"Sherlock?"

Sherlock did not speak, although he opened an eye to acknowledge him. 

"Do you not want to talk today?" 

Sherlock rolled his head back and shrugged. 

"Do you want to go outside?"

He thought about shouting, or yelling, or whistling. Just making any noise to shut up the teacher. But in the end, he walked out the classroom without a word with his head down. 

 

Outside in the corridor, he bumped into someone. His heart sped up. Across from him was  _that boy_.

"Hello! I remember you. I'm John, did I ever tell you that?" He held his hand out.

Sherlock shook it but didn't say anything, he was too astounded at fate.

"Well I know that you're Sherlock." John sank to his knees on the floor and sighed. Sherlock copied his action.

"Yes." Sherlock managed to squeak.

"What are you outside for?"

Sherlock shrugged, "I just wanted to."

John laughed, not mockingly, which made Sherlock relax more. "I punched a kid."

Sherlock looked alarmed but then grinned at the unexpected, "Why?"

"He talks too much shit about people." John grinned, followed by a heavy sigh. "But it's good to finally talk to you."

Sherlock tilted his head.

"You saved my ass a few years ago! You must remember."

"Yeah, 'course I do. What was all that about, anyway?" Sherlock tried to sound as passive as possible, focusing incredibly hard on not trying to let it show that he thought about that meeting a lot more often than he was willing to admit.

John laughed absently and shook his head, "Honestly, I don't really remember what they were saying. Those fuckers bullied me though, that's true. I hadn't learned to stick up for myself then, but after that I did."

"That's good. It's important to stick up for yourself. If I never did that, people would bully me." Sherlock nodded. "I know that people don't like me, but at least they never say it to my face."

John looked at him sadly. Sherlock was instantly confused. He was about to ask him why, but John continued,

"Meeting you that day saved my life, though." He cleared his throat.

"What?" 

"I learned to stick up for myself against the bullies in my life. Without that, I'd probably be dead already."

"Who bullies you?" Sherlock sounded desperate.

However, at that moment John's teacher stormed out the class and started screaming his head off at John. Sherlock almost jumped out of his skin and felt very awkward being there as the teacher had clearly not noticed his presence. But Sherlock did notice John and the way he flinched, the way his eyes flickered and his arms jolted at every movement the teacher made. In the middle of the lecture John caught Sherlock's eyes and both of the boys filled with a mischievous joy. After another minute and a half of shouting, the teacher pushed John back into the classroom, steam bellowing from his ears and Sherlock was left reeling and processing that incredible encounter.

He didn't bother returning to class. He sat outside, in awe, in disbelief, and with an incredibly strong belief that Sherlock would be seeing a lot more of that boy. He smiled to himself as he realised that the lights weren't so bright and the noises around him were not so sharp and hurtful but rather soft and comforting. It had become a good day.


	9. Fight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for not updating, very busy with school at the moment!

Sherlock had been feeling not good all day. Very, very not good. The previous day's talk with John had been good, but now he felt bad. He was entirely convinced that he had made such a fool of himself that John would think him strange, weird, an  _idiot_.

He should have said something, instead of cowering away from that teacher. He should have stopped the shouting because he could tell by John's face that he hated the shouting, no matter what mask he appeared to have on. Sherlock had been kicking himself all night after that.

 

Now, he sat in his physics class with his heart irritatingly beating faster and faster. He was bored; this was usually how he found himself in physics. Yet he was also very sad at the idea of having caused John more pain. It wasn't fair for John to be in pain. Sherlock decided he would much rather risk himself for John than anyone else on the planet.

Even Mycroft.

He startled himself at that. Even Mycroft. It was true, he felt it in his heart, but why? Why did he care so much for a boy he had only had fleeting conversations with more than his own brother. That made him feel uneasy. Was this what his brother had warned him about-sentiment?

His thoughts were interrupted when a girl tugged his sleeve.

"Sherlock." The girl had a frown plastered on her face.

"What?" He didn't look up.

"I saw you talking to my brother yesterday. I need your help." 

Sherlock looked at her in a state of brief confusion until it clicked. Harriet Watson - of course. A million thoughts ran through his head until he focussed on that last word, help. Help.

"My help? With what?"

"John." She whispered. Sherlock's heart sped up. "I overheard some boys in his class say they were gonna fight him. You can stop that."

"Stop it! How on earth-" Sherlock was stopped mid-sentence when Harriet's face revealed she didn't believe a word of it.

"Come on, Sherlock. We've all seen you fight before."

"These guys are two years older than me! Besides...why should I do it for John?" He pretended not to care.

Harriet drew in closer to Sherlock, to be absolutely certain what she was going to say would stay between them.

"He talks about you all the time at home. Oh, Sherlock, please help him! He doesn't need any more fighting." 

"What does he say about me?" Sherlock was taken aback.

"Will you help him, Sherlock?"

"Of course I will." 

Harriet smiled and squeezed his hand before shrinking away back to her desk.

The awareness of what was going to happen sunk in. He was going to fight.

 

After physics, Sherlock followed Harriet down to behind the school, were a circle was already beginning to form. The shouts and yells made Sherlock flinch - strange, a fight had never provoked that reaction before. He gulped as he squeezed through the crowd.

There it was. Two boys, who towered above Sherlock had John in their grip. An unfair fight- outnumbered and restricted. 

The site of John's pained expression after the first blow landed was enough to cause any hesitation to immediately leave him, instead without delay he sprang into the circle with anger running through him. 

Behind him he heard laughter and a mixture of cries, some supportive but the majority mocking. That didn't seem to matter now though. Before, he had noticed that the boys were a lot bigger than him but now as he stood there he realised he had wildly miscalculated. This was bad. 

_No matter. Get on with it._

Sherlock sprung up and landed a punch in the smaller boy's nose, stunning him momentarily. However, the other boy lunged at him and tossed him to the ground. Sherlock shook it off and headbutted him in the stomach before rolling out of the way of the boy with the now bloody nose. John tried to crawl towards him but was met with a kick. 

"Fuck off!" Sherlock yelled, clawing and kicking at the larger boy. Everyone in the crowd laughed and John looked mortified- the sight of which made Sherlock humiliated.

With tears in his eyes, Sherlock threw all his frustration into the larger boy but the emotions made his judgement cloudy. Sherlock did manage to land a few of the hits, but the boy landed a punch to Sherlock's forehead which was enough to daze him until he collapsed in a heap unconscious.

Mycroft was right, Sherlock decided.

 


	10. Watson

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thought I'd try something from John's perspective

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think i will wrap up this story soon, it kinda turned into a collection of stories with a loose plot.  
> I have enjoyed my adventures with KidLock though so I am probably going to start a new story with them.  
> There will probably be one more chapter after this.
> 
> ***This is where the child abuse tag becomes more apparent

John blinked rapidly, incredibly confused at the events that just unfolded. In a single moment, all the attention had been stolen from him and forced onto the impressive - but knocked out - bundle of a boy he had run into so many times before.

Sherlock had stood up for him. It had felt good.

But now it was his turn to help Sherlock.

He jogged over to the boy who was starting to stir and held his arm so it was more comfortable.

When Sherlock looked up at John with those big blue eyes, John felt something within him melt.

 

By the time they had got inside, John realised he had a cut on his forehead. Shit. That would not go down well. 

Blood on his shirt.

No no no. His heart began to beat quicker but he shook his head in a frantic attempt to ignore it.

"Thanks for sticking up for me." John turned to Sherlock. They were both sitting on the bright blue plastic chairs outside the head's office.

"No problem." Sherlock said, not looking up.

"I mean it. Although it didn't end well. It was still a good thing. Do you have a phone?"

Sherlock nodded.

"I'll give you my number? We can talk more, if you'd like."

Sherlock turned around, neither nodding nor shaking his head. John scribbled his number on Sherlock's hand.

Sherlock remained silent. John wondered if the boy had ever been sent to the head's office before. He was about to make a comment when the door opened and the head called John in - alone.

 

"We are going to call your father to pick you up. Final decision. You may come back tomorrow, but we believe this is for the best. Have time to cool off."

"But-" 

"Nothing, John."

He should have seen this one coming. He drew a shaky breath and decided it would be more beneficial for him and Harry to just accept this punishment - he'd deal with the consequences later.

 

When his dad arrived, John realised he was in for it. He felt the vice-like grip on his arm as a sign of more things to come. The familiar pit in his stomach deepened, and if there was a time to cry for help it would be now. But there would be no use- it would just make it worse.

The car journey was silent, his father's anger building at every inconvenience in the traffic. John was sure his father didn't care about the fighting, but needed an excuse for a way to let out his own anger. He thought of Harry, still at school and still safe. The mess she'd walk in on when she came home. He gulped.

 

It came as expected, but John tried his hardest to keep his eyes closed throughout the whole thing. Tears stung at his eyes with every hit, every kick but he daren't let his father win. Occasionally he'd try and hit back, jamming a fist into his father's shin. His own anger built up within him and with every kick that cut his skin or every bruise that began to form, he tried to hit back just as viciously. But he couldn't and he grew weaker by the minute. By the time his father had stopped slamming down upon him with a belt, the wounds stinging and trailing with blood, he desperately longed for his mysterious saviour.

As son as his father left the house, he scrambled for his phone. This time he let himself cry. One message.

 

_John, I'm so sorry about your father. Talk to me ASAP - SH_

 

John was so bewildered he didn't even question it. Sherlock knew, how he didn't know, but he didn't care. He had someone, someone who cared.

_shrlck pleas helpme_

 

 


	11. panic

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> nearing the end now

_**Mycroft, I need your help.** _ _**SH** _

 

_Oh Sherlock, what have you done now? MH_

 

**_It was not my fault. SH_ **

****

**_I think. SH_ **

 

_Gotten in deep, then? MH_

 

**_It's about John. SH_ **

 

_Oh dear. Go on. MH_

 

**_He's hurt. Bad. I don't know how bad....it's not good, Mycroft. SH_ **

 

_I warned you, Sherlock. MH_

 

**_Oh for Christ's sake, Mycroft! Now's NOT the time for your 'I told you so' talk. I GET IT, OKAY? SH_ **

 

_Well...what do you expect me to do about it? MH_

 

**_HELP SH_ **

 

_What happened? MH_

 

**_His father. Or something. I SAW it, all over him, I'm sure. ARGH. SH_ **

 

_Calm down, Sherlock. Explain. Step by step. MH_

 

**_Before- ages ago, the first time I saw the bruises. Recently they got worse, it certainly wasn't Harry, and it just makes sense. The way he acts, the way he holds himself...hides himself. I've seen it before. I recognise this, Mycroft. SH_ **

 

_I can call the police. MH_

 

**_OKAY. SH_ **

 

_Are you sure? MH_

 

**_HE ASKED FOR MY HELP. SH_ **

**_I DONT KNOW WHAT TO SAY. SH_ **

**_OR DO. SH_ **

 

_I told you not to get involved, if you'd have just done what I had...oh, it would have been simpler. MH_

 

**_I AM NOT YOU. SH_ **

 

_Yes, yes I know. Okay, enough fighting - it won't help at all. I'm sorry, Sherlock. I'll help you. I'm phoning the police. Get to John's house. We'll fix this. MH_

 

 


	12. the end

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay i've put this off as long as possible because i realised it's never going to be a perfect ending...and everything kind of got scrambled anyway.
> 
> i'll be back to post more work, probably just one-shots though until i can find the time. 
> 
> thanks for reading!

Sherlock wasn't prepared for the extreme wave of emotion that crashed over him as he took in the sight of John.

It was all wrong. John shouldn't be hurt and he shouldn't be sad. 

Sherlock had barely known the boy, but there was something about him that had drawn him in completely and now there was no escape.

No matter how strong his urge to run away, no matter how much he wanted to abandon all emotion, he knelt down beside John who was desperately trying to wipe the blood from his face. Both of the boys were breathing heavily and aware that something huge was about to begin.

"It'll be okay, John." Sherlock tried to speak with confidence, faltering slightly. 

"I know. I know. Just-" John gulped and shook his head, trying to keep the tears from falling, "Harry. What'll happen to us?"

"Mycroft will help." Sherlock was sure of that if anything.

John nodded but was unsure whether he could trust it.

"One thing's for sure. I can't stay in this hell hole any longer." John grunted and shakily stood up.

 

Mycroft arrived shortly after with one policeman.  Sherlock was glad that there was not a huge team of people rushing about and making a fuss, he hated fuss. The sight of Mycroft flooded him with relief, although he wouldn't admit it anytime soon. 

"Are you okay, Sherlock?" Mycroft laid a hand on his brother's shoulder. He was aware of how frighteningly pale he had grown.

Sherlock nodded with a frown plastered on his face.

"What will happen to John?" 

Mycroft was about to speak when the policeman piped up, "Well, he'll go to the hospital to get cleaned up and checked over and then I'll get a report from both of you. I expect this to be a very short case. I wouldn't worry, I think it is fairly damn certain your father will be caught."

Sherlock's heartbeat quickened at the thought of the hospital. The bright lights and stench made his stomach turn.

"I don't want to go to the hospital." John groaned.

"Sherlock can come with you," Mycroft suggested. 

Sherlock bit his lip and gave Mycroft a pleading look.

"This will be good for you, Sherlock. I'll be with you both. I'll get John's sister over too."

 

"John, you can stay with us for a few days. Until your aunt comes." Sherlock's eyes lit up. He would look after John. 

"What about me?" Harry sounded scared, "I don't want to be without my brother."

"You can come too! Obviously."

"Really?"

"Of course."

"Thank you, Sherlock. I hope your parents won't mind."

Mycroft laughed a strange breathless laugh. Sherlock went red.

"John, I really wouldn't worry about that. Our parents have been looking for Sherlock to get a real friend since he was first able to cause havoc. I'll alert our parents that you will be coming."

Sherlock frowned. He hadn't wanted John to know that. He glanced at John and thought about the strange relationship that they had started. He silently pleaded to the universe to let it continue.

"Well, y'know, it's nice to have someone who cares. Sherlock is my friend, and I'm glad for it." 

Both of the Holmes' brothers beamed at this. Mycroft was instantly proud of his little brother and the sight of his smile filled him with joy.

When Mycroft looked at John he smiled. He knew that the two boys were perfect for each other. He was relieved that Sherlock finally had someone other than himself, who probably gave him the worst advice ever. Mycroft loved Sherlock but he knew that his brother was a lot more emotional than him, and he knew he couldn't care for him completely, as much as that broke his heart. Yet, now that John was here he could take a step back and let his brother grow up, make his own mistakes and find his own two feet. And whenever Sherlock needed him, Mycroft would be there. That was a happy enough ending for him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay here it is. im horrible at endings and i know this isn't as well written as i would have liked it to be, but i am a little rusty. thanks for reading <3

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading :)


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